Home school and I have decided to see other people. It feels like a breakup to me, the kind where you say it's mutual to save face, but you're really being dumped and you're still pathetically in love.
TJ and I have decided to put the younger kids in a Montessori charter school this fall. Ezra is too old for the charter school and anyway, he loves his online school, so he'll be continuing at home. Isaiah is old enough for kindergarten, so he'll be going for a half day. I began exploring the idea of this school mostly because Maria Montessori's ideals line up so closely with my own--but also because my depression has been harder to manage this spring than ever. The decision was pretty much clinched when I asked the kids if they would like to go to school with their cousins, and they jumped at the idea.
I feel that God is leading me in this new direction: I hope that by lightening my load I can heal and be a happier, better mom and wife. Paradoxically, the thought of no more home school in my life depresses me beyond all reason. True to my usual form, I've been indulging in all kinds of what-ifs about how good a job I've been doing at teaching the kids, all kinds of pity parties about the fact that the kids want to leave me, and all kinds of willy-nilly waffling about whether or not I can go through with it. Thankfully and sadly, the kids are still in love with the idea, and they keep me accountable.
Friends and loved ones have been trying to show support during this change, but because in my heart I'm still truly a home school mom, it's hard for me to hear them without feeling judged one way or another. I end up irrationally defending the institution like a girl who still loves her ex. Some people express admiration that I tried so hard and for so long to do something that they consider nearly impossible. They say funny things like "it's good that your kids will get some socialization now," or, "it's just healthy for a mom to have some time to herself every day." And I listen to the love instead of listening to the words. Other friends might feel in their hearts that I'm making a mistake--I'm not sure--but they're kind and show support anyway. And still others have the amazing balanced view that I'm just following the Lord's will for my family as best I can figure it out. It is this self-image, and not the Hero Who Attempted the Impossible, and not the Failure Who Burned Out and Gave Up, that I'm trying to embrace.
I am struggling to reconcile my gospel ideals of fortitude, patience, and perseverance with my current situation. I feel very much like I'm betraying my home school sisters in this community by walking away. We stick to it, through thick and through thin--we cheer each other on, confident that if we can just get through the rough patches that occur in all of our lives, our families will thrive and be blessed. All these past four years I've had so much positive direction from the Lord on my efforts in our home school, and we've had so much joy and success. It is difficult to believe that he would direct me away from this fertile ground.
I was surprised and uplifted by relevant counsel for my life coming out of dreary old Jacob 5. As we discussed the olive tree allegory in Sunday School, I was impressed that the Lord grafts his children where he wants them, for their growth and for the growth of the Kingdom. Callings change, life circumstances change, relationships change, all whether or not we want them to. The Master Gardener surely has directed this change, and therefore I trust we will still have a bountiful harvest.
TJ and I have decided to put the younger kids in a Montessori charter school this fall. Ezra is too old for the charter school and anyway, he loves his online school, so he'll be continuing at home. Isaiah is old enough for kindergarten, so he'll be going for a half day. I began exploring the idea of this school mostly because Maria Montessori's ideals line up so closely with my own--but also because my depression has been harder to manage this spring than ever. The decision was pretty much clinched when I asked the kids if they would like to go to school with their cousins, and they jumped at the idea.
I feel that God is leading me in this new direction: I hope that by lightening my load I can heal and be a happier, better mom and wife. Paradoxically, the thought of no more home school in my life depresses me beyond all reason. True to my usual form, I've been indulging in all kinds of what-ifs about how good a job I've been doing at teaching the kids, all kinds of pity parties about the fact that the kids want to leave me, and all kinds of willy-nilly waffling about whether or not I can go through with it. Thankfully and sadly, the kids are still in love with the idea, and they keep me accountable.
Friends and loved ones have been trying to show support during this change, but because in my heart I'm still truly a home school mom, it's hard for me to hear them without feeling judged one way or another. I end up irrationally defending the institution like a girl who still loves her ex. Some people express admiration that I tried so hard and for so long to do something that they consider nearly impossible. They say funny things like "it's good that your kids will get some socialization now," or, "it's just healthy for a mom to have some time to herself every day." And I listen to the love instead of listening to the words. Other friends might feel in their hearts that I'm making a mistake--I'm not sure--but they're kind and show support anyway. And still others have the amazing balanced view that I'm just following the Lord's will for my family as best I can figure it out. It is this self-image, and not the Hero Who Attempted the Impossible, and not the Failure Who Burned Out and Gave Up, that I'm trying to embrace.
I am struggling to reconcile my gospel ideals of fortitude, patience, and perseverance with my current situation. I feel very much like I'm betraying my home school sisters in this community by walking away. We stick to it, through thick and through thin--we cheer each other on, confident that if we can just get through the rough patches that occur in all of our lives, our families will thrive and be blessed. All these past four years I've had so much positive direction from the Lord on my efforts in our home school, and we've had so much joy and success. It is difficult to believe that he would direct me away from this fertile ground.
I was surprised and uplifted by relevant counsel for my life coming out of dreary old Jacob 5. As we discussed the olive tree allegory in Sunday School, I was impressed that the Lord grafts his children where he wants them, for their growth and for the growth of the Kingdom. Callings change, life circumstances change, relationships change, all whether or not we want them to. The Master Gardener surely has directed this change, and therefore I trust we will still have a bountiful harvest.
1 comment:
Isn't personal revelation for our family such an amazing blessing! It takes courage to follow that revelation especially when we love the other choice. Homeschooling, public school, etc aren't inherently right or wrong, just options that are available to us and as we follow the Lord's path for our families, all things will be turned for good. Hang in there friend.
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